


Escher's Tessellation

by Stria (Asia117)



Series: An Eternal Golden Braid [3]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: (kind of), Body Dysphoria, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Misgendering, Non-Explicit Sex, Religion, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, internalized shit of various origin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asia117/pseuds/Stria
Summary: “But do you think I’m a real boy?”“Much realer than I am, because you had to fight the odds, and I didn’t.”[Or, Isak is a trans boy. He comes out to his friends.]Translation in русский available inside.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I really can't stay so much without writing I'm just. Someone stop me please. Really. (I mean, at least this time the title of the story is not only #aesthetic lmao. But it's also #aesthetic, because [this book](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%B6del,_Escher,_Bach), in case you were wondering. So this will be the second to last story.)
> 
> The Trigger Warnings are the same for the other stories of this series. If you're dysphoric, please be careful and be safe. I love you.
> 
> You can find the translation in русский [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5370772)!

Isak did think that it would have been maybe slightly better with Even, and in a way it is. Even holds Isak when he gets panic attacks, or that time when the old lady misgendered him at the supermarket—it doesn’t happen almost at all anymore, because Isak is good with passing, musses up his eyebrows and wears large clothes over his binder, and knows the swaggering gait by heart. But there’s always the odd person that has to defy any chance, since he’s just really lucky.

But being with Even does mean Isak is slightly better, but Isak is not better in general. He knows it’s inevitable, and he knows Even knows. It still doesn’t make it better.

(Even knows because Even is bipolar, and it doesn’t get better because he’s loved and in a relationship. It’s just the way Even’s brain work, and he told Isak so many times, that he didn’t expect to get better because of a relationship, and Isak maybe could shift the focus and try to think the same. Isak still finds it difficult.)

Isak still hates himself. Isak still looks at himself in the mirror and wishes he could die because he’s just a trick of nature. Even stays with him through all this, though, and this makes Isak feel marginally better.

 “I just wish it could be different. I just—” he tells Even, and wipes his tears with his sweatshirt. “Whatever god is up there, they must hate me.”

Even just hugs him and rocks him back and forth. Isak is grateful because he doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to tell him it’s not true, but just acknowledge his suffering.

 

***

 

Sometimes Isak just feels like he’s lying to people.

He’s not lying to Even, and Sonja, and Jonas. But surely he’s lying to Magnus and Mahdi, playing tricks on them and making them think he’s a _real boy_ with an optical illusion. The binder provides a nice cover for his lie to keep up as much as possible, and he’s getting away with it without problems.

Isak’s lying to _the whole world_. He’s making people do a double take when they see him because they can’t understand if he’s a boy or a girl, and joke’s on Isak anyway, because he will never be a _real boy_.

Because real boys do not need binders, real boys do not need packers, and real boys do not get periods. Real boys get boxer briefs and beard and dates with pretty girls who look at them like they hung the moon.

Real boys don’t like boys, real boys like girls.

And Isak doesn’t even like girls, he never did. They’re nice, and they’re cool, and they’re all pretty, but they’re not attractive. Isak likes Even. Isak likes boys.

Just like girls do.

And Even is pansexual, he doesn’t care about gender at all, so he can like Isak even if Isak is not a real boy, because Even doesn’t care. Even doesn’t care, Even doesn’t care.

It’s Sonja who finds him hidden under his desk, trembling and hyperventilating. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to make him get out. She just sits near him and starts talking about what happened to her at university today. She met a cute girl, and that cute girl spilled hot tea on her, and made her go home and change, but she got her number out of it, so she doesn’t mind.

“You’re a real girl,” Isak murmurs to her after he’s calmed down, and Sonja just nods in response. “And you like girls.”

“I do, Ike. I know it might seems strange, but liking boys doesn’t make you less of a boy.”

Isak keeps his breathing even, closes his eyes. Sonja squeezes his hand and doesn’t let go.

 

***

 

“I want to tell Mags and Mahdi,” Isak says. “I want them to know.”

Jonas looks at him over his kebab pizza. They’re having a late dinner at Isak’s; his mum’s asleep, and they stayed up playing Fifa, and forgot to eat. “That’s great, go for it when you’re ready.”

I don’t want to lie to them anymore, is what Isak doesn’t say. He just smiles tightly and nods. “Will you be my friend even if they choose not to be?”

Jonas chews slowly and swallows. “Dude, you’re my best friend and you always have been. If they want to be gross over your biology, then it’s their fucking loss and we’ll kick their arses together.”

If they decide they don’t want to be Isak’s friends, they’d be right. Friends don’t lie to each other. Friends tell the truth, and friends don’t play tricks on the minds of their friends.

If Isak wanted to have his mind played, he would go to see M.C. Escher’s exhibitions.

“I guess,” he says instead, and takes another bite of his kebab pizza. He’s not really hungry.

 

***

 

Even kisses him deeply when he sees him. He always does that, because he’s into PDA honestly more than Isak is, but Isak doesn’t really mind. He likes feeling wanted, he likes feeling like Even cares about _him_ and wants to be with him. He sometimes complains a bit for show, but it would crush him if Even stopped doing it, and Even knows, because they have their own rituals they can’t give up.

“What do you like about me?” Isak asks him. He doesn’t mean to test Even, he really doesn’t. But his stomach churns when he thinks about the fact that Even likes _girls_ too, and he needs to know.

Even looks at him for what seems a very long time. “I like that you’re always watching _essai_ films with me, and I know you hate them but you never complain. And when I’m manic you try your best to stay close to me and your bike runs are lovely. And you make me custard with cream when I’m down, and cheers when I can eat a teaspoon of it. And you bought the tea I liked just to make it to me when I come over. And when you look at me you get a hint of crinkles at the corner of your eyes even if you aren’t smiling.”

Even keeps talking, and Isak lets himself be lulled by his voice. He’s not saying he likes Isak because he’s a _real boy_ , and that makes him feel almost sick, but he files the thought away from later, and closes his eyes.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry I lied to you both,” Isak says. They’ve been smoking a bit because Magnus’ mum is not at home, and his words are slower and is thoughts jumbled. Jonas must be more baked than he is, but Isak sees him going on the alert when he hears the words.

He kind of wishes Jonas wasn’t here just so he doesn’t have to humiliate himself in front of his best friend, but the words are out now.

“Is it something about you not knowing how to hold your smoke? Because you’re a wimp and we know.” Mahdi is smirking, and Isak swallows.

“I’m trans. I’m not a real boy.” Isak holds out the joint for Jonas to take. Jonas doesn’t, but he puts a protective arm around Isak’s shoulders, and Isak can almost _feel_ the warning gaze he throws Mags and Mahdi.

“What the fuck,” says Magnus after a while. “Bro, I can assure you—really assure you—you’re a real dude. Like a boy. A dude. A bro. A—” Mahdi puts a hand on his mouth, and Isak is almost smiling now.

“If you say dude another time, Mags, I swear,” he mutters, then looks at Isak. “But he’s right. You’re not lying to us because you didn’t come out before, bro.”

“Bro,” tackles on Magnus, and this time Isak chuckles. “But did Jonas know?”

“I’ve been his best friend since forever, you loser.” Jonas puts his chin on Isak’s shoulder and Isak can feel him smiling big. “I have the licence to kill the people who are mean to him.”

Isak can read the subtle threat there, and he’s grateful to Jonas for it. Mahdi can, too, and smiles. “Where’s the application to get into the Defence Force?”

“If there’s one, I want in too! Don’t leave me out!” Magnus gesticulates so vehemently he actually knocks down Mahdi’s snapback.

“It’s Jonas who handles the application forms, you must refer to him.”

“Amazing, bro. We’ll be the best Defence Force ever, I swear.” Magnus is beaming, and Mahdi is smiling too. Isak feels a bit overwhelming, and if they call him ‘bro’ another time, he might explode, but he figures it’s better than the outcome he was expecting.

“Bro, I love you but you left the joint to go out, that’s not good etiquette, come on.” Mahdi takes the joint from his hands and lights it again. “I have to teach you everything, Ike. Come on.”

Isak just smiles, and leans a bit on Jonas. “Sorry,” he says.

 

***

 

“But do you think I’m a real boy?”

“Much realer than I am, because you had to fight the odds, and I didn’t.”

 

***

 

Mahdi and Magnus become an integral and enthusiastic part of the Isak Defence Force—Jonas had to talk Mags out of making pins with IDF written on them because _that’s really not what that acronym means, Mags, and I don’t want that acronym near me anytime ever_. They never leave him alone at school, always keep an eye on him and glare at the people who stare at him a little too long.

Even finds it amusing, and mentions the possibility of making a squad jacket so they can be cool. Maybe they can organise a russebus over that.

“I have absolutely no intention of being in a russebus,” Jonas replies. “But the jackets are okay. As long as they don’t say IDF.”

“We can do IDS, like Squad. Why is it even Force, anyway.” Even looks a bit confused, and Isak shrugs.

“Mahdi was baked when he said that. Don’t blame it on me.”

That earns him a pinch from Mahdi, and he retaliates with ear pulling.

It devolves into a full tickle fight, and the others don’t even try to separate them.

 

***

 

“It’s a cisnormativity kind of thing.” Sonja is looking at him matter-of-factly. “The more you know, the more you can realise what makes you think and do.”

“And cissexism,” replies Isak. Sonja nods and takes a sip of her wine.

“And heteronormativity too, in your case. Or in mine.” Sonja bites her lip, looks down. “I know it seems like I’m speaking from a pedestal, but it’s not easy, and it was even difficult before. It’s a journey we have to make to feel better.”

A journey of trans-formation, Isak thinks, and smiles a bit. He knows Sonja means well, he really does. He also knows she tends to get a bit overbearing, because she told him herself, told him to stop her if she got overwhelming and rude, because she was trying to get better about that. “Like a tessellation?”

Sonja smiles. “Like a tessellation, like every human transition is.”

Isak looks up at Sonja’s Escher print, hanging on an otherwise empty wall of her room. “It’s slow,” he says. “And it’s still difficult to think that I’m not tricking anyone.”

He can see Sonja’s sad smile. “I know, baby.”

They’re silent for a bit, Isak with his head on her shoulder, and Sonja sipping her wine slowly, lost in her own thoughts.

 

***

 

Even likes to wear Isak’s clothes when he’s over, and they fit him just right, because Isak likes to dress large, so nobody can see anything of his body. Isak likes to see Even with his clothes, gets a roaring feeling of _mine_ in his chest, and he knows he shouldn’t, he knows he’s not an animal, but he can’t help it. Even loves _him_. Even thinks he’s a _real boy_ and he loves him. Even stays with him and will stay with him, and doesn’t care about Isak not being cis.

(Or, he cares, he does, because he values Isak’s gender and Isak’s dysphoria. But he doesn’t _care_ in the bad sense of the word.)

When Even wears Isak’s clothes, it’s almost guaranteed the whole ordeal will end in sex. They have to be silent, because Isak’s mum is still in the house, and she rarely goes out without him, if not for her book club on Wednesday, and Isak doesn’t want her to hear anything.

So they breathe into each other’s mouth, and they kiss away the moans, or bite the pillows to try and keep it down, but Isak’s favourite is when he can suck on Even’s fingers as a distraction, as a way to keep himself occupied and not scream. He forgets to do that when he gets too overwhelmed, and that’s the moment when Even had to cover his whole mouth with his hand, and that’s what makes Isak’s breath hitch at the sole thought.

Even’s not better at reigning in his moans. He bites, and sucks, and licks, and Isak ends up with big bruises that the boys end up seeing because Even’s too out of it to be careful and keep them under the neckline, and Isak is too lazy to cover them up in front of anyone except his mum, so he takes the leering he gets after a particularly good afternoon spent in bed with Even. He doesn’t mind. They’re a sign of how much Even loves and worships his body, and he wears them proudly, like trophies.

 

***

 

“How can you accept that of me, Mamma? How can you?”

Mamma looks at him. They’re back from the therapist’s studio, and she looks bone tired just like she looks after every session, but if Isak didn’t ask her this he would have exploded.

She smiles a bit. “Accept what, Issy?”

“That I’m—” he gesticulates towards himself, towards his ( _fake, fake, fake_ ) flat chest and his short hair. He can’t say the word in front of Mamma.

Mamma is caressing the rosary she keeps in her hands. It’s a wooden thing, nothing fancy, but she always keeps it with her, panics when she can’t find it. “You know,” she says, and her voice sounds a bit distant. “When I realised I was expecting you, I was so happy, and I thanked the Lord so much, and prayed for you to be a healthy and smart and beautiful kid.”

She puts her hand on Isak’s cheek, and the touch is something Isak is not used to get from her, not anymore, and he can’t avoid a sob escaping him.

“The Lord listened to my prayers, Issy. You are a healthy and smart and beautiful kid, and you’ll grow up to be a healthy and smart and beautiful adult one day.” She’s smiling, and there’s a tenderness in her eyes Isak doesn’t always see.

“But I’m not healthy, it’s the fact. I’m not. I’m—this body, I’m—” he can’t keep going, so he just wipes his tears with a curt gesture.

“We do not know the path the Lord paves for us, Issy.” Mamma takes a deep breath. “He makes no mistakes, and if you’re born this way, then so be it. We can give you medicine if it helps you be better, my darling.”

Isak shrugs. “Like you?” He asks, and doesn’t look at her.

“Like me,” she confirms. “You’re helping me so much, my son. It’s just right that I help you right back.”

Mamma hugs him and kisses his hair, and Isak is crying so much from her calling him ‘son’ that he doesn’t even react.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If someone's interested, [this](http://www.tessellations.org/eschergallery7.shtml) is what Sonja has in her room. It's one of my favourite tessellations, but tbh I love all the Escher work.
> 
> If you liked it consider leaving a kudo or commenting, that keeps me going! Or come to find me on [tumblr](http://nooradeservedbetter.tumblr.com)!


End file.
